


Hollow Shell Of What Once Was

by peopleare_overrated



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fae Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt Of Rivia is shit at apologies, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Look., Minor Injuries, You CAN read this as angsty post break-up exes, by minor i mean "jaskier gets his fucking leg caught in a bear trap", not beta read we die like men, or not. i dont rlly care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:48:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24179221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peopleare_overrated/pseuds/peopleare_overrated
Summary: "The witcher stepped into view immediately, already ready to free the unlucky bastard and get away from whatever town he set up his camp near.But those horns that Geralt just noticed didn’t belong to a human. Neither did the dirty, muddled wings.And Geralt finally came to think that it wasn’t a human after all."aka. op needs to chill the fuck out with the angst
Comments: 3
Kudos: 99





	Hollow Shell Of What Once Was

It was a warm night. Geralt found himself relieved that he wasn’t in the harsh light of the summer sun anymore, able to calmly rest. Well, after he caught himself something to eat, of course. He instinctively turned to tell the bard to stay quiet with that lute of his, but behind him, he found an empty camp he set up by himself. 

Oh.

Of course.

It’s been almost a year since he...parted ways with Jaskier. Why does he still dwell on these old habits?

Geralt forced himself to stop that train of thought, focusing instead on not going to sleep hungry tonight, especially after two days of no food. He stalked quietly through the forest, looking for an animal to be his dinner tonight. He even set up some bear traps so he has a better chance of catching something this time. Jaskier would surely say he was going overboard, that some poor soul was gonna get trapped in one of those.

... Huh.

Did he buy those bear traps before or after Jaskier…. _ left _ ? It all kind of blended together for Geralt. 

_ Crack. _

Geralt turned his head in the direction of the snapping tree branch. Something quickly moved away. Too fast. Geralt chased after it anyways but wasn’t able to find the creature after.

He’s not sure how long it is - maybe an hour - when he decides to get back to the small empty camp he set up. He slowly walks through the woods, sword still in hand.

_ Clank. _

The metal sound catches Geralt’s ear.

Must be one of the traps.

And so the witcher walked back, away from the small clearing that he just started to slowly make out. He traced the sound of struggle, of leaves and dried, fallen branches rusting on the ground. The closer he got the clearer the sounds got, but one sound he still couldn’t quite decipher, and it was making him nervous, even if he would never admit it. The grunting, quiet howling on pain, that he wasn’t entirely sure belonged to an animal. But it sounded far enough from a human that Geralt didn’t consider it aside from a mere second. It sounded too foreign, though not animalistic. 

Geralt made sure to not make a sound as he finally reached the trap he had laid, not just yet stepping out from the shadows, trying to get a look at what he caught.

_ “Fucking damn it-” _ the thing grunted in pain.

…

_ It was a human after all. _

The witcher stepped into view immediately, already ready to free the unlucky bastard and get away from whatever town he set up his camp near.

But those horns that Geralt just noticed didn’t belong to a human. Neither did the dirty, muddled wings. 

And Geralt finally came to think that it wasn’t a human after all. 

Of course the thing -  _ Fae _ , Geralt corrected himself - noticed him.

Jaskier stilled on the ground.

Wait-

_ Jaskier. _

“O- oh my gods, G-” shuffling away from Geralt only worsened his pain, and the bard moaned in agony. The fear that reeked off of him was so thick the witcher’s nose nearly got stuffed just being around the other man- _ creature- _ **_ whatever. _ **

Despite that, Geralt walked closer to free the bard from the trap. 

Jaskier’s sharp teeth - fangs? - snapped at him, hurtling the injured leg closer to his body, “Get away from me!”

There was something...different underlying Jaskier’s voice. There always was, only this time it didn’t remind Geralt of honey and buttercups, but more of pain and violence. A shiver ran up Geralt’s spine at the estranged yet familiar sound. 

He raised his hands up, trying to calm the other down. 

It didn’t help much, judging by the sight in front of him.

Murky dark wings raised high in an attempt at intimidation, the pupils of the deep blue eyes slit so much you almost couldn’t see them, more details that Geralt didn’t have time to focus on. He needed to calm the bard down, not study him. 

Geralt slowly removed the sword he always carried with him and set it aside, kicking it out of his reach. Jaskier’s eyes never left Geralt. The witcher slowly kneeled in front of the bard, making sure he made no sudden moves as he tried to gain the other’s trust again. Jaskier’s eyes never left Geralt, but his wings weren’t as tense the next time Geralt glanced at them.

“Jaskier,”

It feels like he hasn’t heard his voice in a long time.

“let me help you.”

Jaskier’s eyes never leave Geralt, but he stretches his injured leg out, trying his hardest not to sob with pain. Geralt can tell. He can imagine getting stuck in a bear trap isn’t pretty.

He slowly and methodically moves his hands over to the bloody trap. It takes a few moments, but soon Geralt disables the trap, letting Jaskier pull his leg out of it. His wings twitch. His eyes never leave Geralt. 

The fae tries to get up but even before the injured leg hits the ground they both know he won’t be able to stand on it, much less run, as Geralt can only guess he wants to. Geralt offers his hand, offers to support the bard.

Jaskier flinches. 

The scent of fear is still potent all around them. It breaks Geralt’s heart to know his b-  _ The bard _ fears him.

“G-get away from me!” Jaskier manages to back up and fell against a tree, “I won’t let you kill me!”

“Jaskier, I would never kill you,” the word escape his mouth before Geralt can make up his mind on what to say, but he doesn’t mind, it’s only the truth. He wouldn’t kill his friend...if he can still call him that. Were they still friends after what happened?

Jaskier doesn’t say anything.

Geralt tries again, “Let me help you heal your leg, it’s in a horrible condition.”

Jaskier’s eyes never leave Geralt even as he gestures to his heavily injured leg. 

“You can’t just walk this off, no matter how powerful you are.”

Because Geralt doesn’t know how powerful Jaskier is, and the last this he needs right now besides a scared injured fae is an  _ angry  _ scared injured fae. He knows how prideful these creatures are. And how Jaskier is in general. 

“G...” Jaskier starts, then hesitates, “Give me your promise. You can’t break a promise to a fae.”

Geralt sighs, “I promise I won’t hurt you. Will you stop being stubborn and go with me now?”

He should really think before he speaks. The last words seem to make Jaskier even more vigilant than he is. 

“...Sorry.”

Jaskier doesn’t seem to relax at the word.

He reaches out to grab a hold of Geralt’s shoulder anyway, and Geralt wraps a hand around Jaskier’s stiff waist. His whole body is stiff. Jaskier’s eyes never leave Geralt. 

They walk to the camp slowly, quietly aside from Jaskier’s uneven breathing and leftover sobs from crying, which Geralt never heard and hopes he doesn’t have to in the future. 

They are quiet when they get to the camp, Jaskier sitting down onto the hard ground near the fire. Geralt goes through his bags to look for something to make Jaskier’s leg better. He eventually gets some bandages and alcohol to disinfect the rather large wound.

First, he sits down by Jaskier. They usually sit-  _ sat  _ opposite to each other, it’s strange not looking at someone directly without having to strain your head. They sit in quiet. Geralt knows Jaskier is staring at him, waiting for his next move. There is none. He just sits next to Jaskier. Sits until he can feel the fear in the air slowly weaken, just a little bit. 

Then he turns to Jaskier, still sitting down. He actually asks for Jaskier to extend his leg instead of commanding him like he would a while ago. 

Disinfecting the wound around Jaskier’s leg hurts, of course it does, and Jaskier flinches. Geralt waits until his leg stops shaking before continuing, instead of simply holding it still like he would before...they parted ways. 

He respects it when Jaskier wants to bandage the wound himself, instead of making a comment about how stubborn the bard was like he would more than a few months ago. 

And Jaskier doesn’t try to leave again after the wound is taken care of, whether out of fear, or because he doesn’t want to make his leg worse, or both, Geralt does not know. He doesn’t ask. He was never the one to talk but now that he wants to ask a million questions and tell Jaskier a million more things, he knows that now is not the time. 

He doesn’t know if it’s by will or because fae don’t need much sleep, but Jaskier is still wide awake when the witcher’s eyelids slowly fall closed against Geralt’s attempts to stay awake. 

The witcher could only hope Jaskier wasn’t gone again by sunrise.

He doesn’t know what woke him up, maybe the cold wind, maybe the rusting of leaves and grass. Geralt was always a light sleeper. When he first opened his eyes he guessed it was very early morning, the sky was still quite dark, the sun only just now showing up on the horizon again. His eyes drifted to the lack of warmth from the campfire, which was now put out. He wondered why his hands were dirty with dry blood, what did he do last night?

_...Last night. _

Geralt bolted upright, looking around the area, looking for a sign of where Jaskier could’ve gone. He didn’t need to look for long, as the bard, seeming unaware that Geralt was now awake, made his way to leave the camp, back turned against the witcher and an injured leg wrapped in bloody bandages just barely touching the ground as he tried to walk, limping. 

“You won’t get very far like that, you know?”

Of course Jaskier knew. The man - was he a man? Fae don’t have the same sense of gender, he heard - in question stiffened.

“Better than being killed.”

Geralt sighed, still not getting up, “I told you I wouldn’t do you any harm.” 

Jaskier scoffed, turning around to face the witcher, “ _ Oh please, _ you have an injured fae in your hands, do you know how much our wings sell for? Or our horns? Hell, you could even find someone who would be willing to buy my fingers for a reasonable price. And I am not about to be a decoration hanging on someone’s wall.”

So Jaskier still doesn’t trust him. Fair enough, he’s seen Geralt kill a fae or two that terrorized some towns. He wonders, were any of them related to Jaskier? Fae customs were still not very well known, they were mysterious creatures.

Jaskier takes a step back or two when Geralt doesn’t say anything for a long time.

“...Looks like your leg is healing well, you can walk now.”

It was now Jaskier’s turn to be quiet, contemplating the witcher’s next move. So Geralt stood up. He didn’t move towards Jaskier though, “I…”

...What were they supposed to talk about now? As much as he didn’t want to assume how powerful Jaskier is, he couldn’t just let him, an injured fae, roam around the woods. This was a busy road, and most travellers weren’t kind enough to spare a non-human. But fae were prideful creatures, Jaskier wasn’t about to let Geralt “be his bodyguard” or whatever stupid excuse the bard would come up with. There is something that was on the tip of Geralt’s tongue ever since he reunited with the other, though there was never quite a good time to say it, or Geralt is just a coward. Maybe the latter.

“I’m sorry.”

Both of them knew for what.

Geralt wasn’t sure if Jaskier would react with annoyance at the poor apology or surprise with  _ an apology  _ from  _ Geralt _ .

“Oh, so that’s it?”

“Hm?” 

The wings behind the bard’s back spread out even more, making him look bigger. Was he angry with Geralt?... He had every right to be.

“You just,” Jaskier scoffed, “Cuss me out and leave me in the middle of mountains in...bumfuck nowhere to wallow in sadness and anger for almost a year, and expect me to forgive you with a lousy little ‘’sorry’’?” Jaskier crossed his arms, “Fuck -  _ and I can’t express this enough _ \- that. I don’t know what kind of fae you met but not even a human wouldn’t forgive you with a stupid ‘’sorry’’.”

“I know.” Geralt finally took a step towards the fae, who took a step back at the same time. Geralt stopped, “...And you don’t have to forgive me, I just want you to know that I’m sorry.”

“Fair enough, but why keep me here unless you plan to sell me? Why not just let me leave?” the accusatory tone shouldn't cut as deep as it did. 

“These woods are near a busy road, someone is gonna notice and try to kill you sooner or later.”

Jaskier tilted his head, “You’re assuming I’ll let them hurt me, witcher.”

“You got caught in a bear trap.”

“...” Jaskier groaned, “Fine, you have a point. So what if I get hurt? Correct me if I’m wrong but the last time I saw you, you told me that if” he made air quotes with his fingers, “‘Life could give me one blessing, it would to take you off my hands.’”

The fact that Jaskier went as far as to copy the exact voice Geralt said the words in sent shivers down the witcher’s spine. But fae were known tricksters, stealing identities and lives, but never killing. 

“I know what I said. And I am sorry, I was angry and didn’t mean it. Get over yourself.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re shit at apologies, Geralt?”

Geralt didn’t want to argue. Not right now. Not after he just gained Jaskier back. So he stayed quiet, listening to the uneven breathing of the other. 

Jaskier took a step towards the woods, eyes still on Geralt. Geralt knew he wanted to leave, it was as clear as today’s sky.

So Geralt turned around, walking over to the other side of the camp to get Roach ready for another day of walking. He didn’t turn around when he heard the leaves and branches rustling behind him. He didn’t want to reopen the old wound even more.

**Author's Note:**

> uhh sorry if there are any typos or grammar mistakes I actually wrote this at like 1 am and English is not my first language


End file.
